Chapter Five: Trial

Alex

After three weeks on the new job, I'm starting to hit my stride again. I've won 3 of my four cases, and the fourth is proving to be a real challenge for a change. I've sorted through the rest of the mess left by the previous ADA, who I've decided must have been some sort of idiot. I've had to start almost from scratch on most of the cases, and on the ones for next month, I'm going to have to fight with the local SVU captain to get some missing information.

I miss my SVU squad. We had our struggles, but at least I never lacked for cooperation. I've been banging my head against a wall with this squad ever since I started, and I'm starting to have flashbacks. When you call me late Friday night, I've just gotten off of the phone with their lead detective… who told me absolutely nothing. I'm looking at a working Saturday to go into the station house and convince them we're on the same side.

I've just put aside my work for the day and I'm exhausted, but I perk up when the phone rings because I know it's you, and that Casey's closing on the Sawyer case was this afternoon.

"How'd it go?"

"You know, one day, you're going to do that and thoroughly embarrass yourself."

"Actually I did once. I thought you were calling and when I said 'Hi Baby' and Arthur nearly fainted on the line." I can't help chuckling, picturing Branch's face turning red.

"Mostly though, I know it's you. So how'd it go?"

"Not bad. Casey did a decent cross yesterday and I had a chance to tell the jury what I really wanted to say, instead of what Langan wanted them to hear, and her closing was actually quite good. It won't get the sway you would have, but I'm pretty sure they'll convict him."

You sound please, and I find myself wishing again that I was with you to celebrate. "You and the squad going out to celebrate?"

"I thought about it. But I think I'm going to pass on this one. We had a long paper-work filled day and I'm ready to just sort of call it a night." There's a funny tilt to your voice and I wonder what's going on in your head.

"Is everything ok Liv?" You're quiet… trying to decide what to say without making me angry.

"Yes. I just miss you. I miss seeing your face asking me questions. Casey's eyebrow waggle is amusing, but it's no glasses of justice."

I don't know why that makes me cry. I've done pretty well so far, not letting my missing you catch up with me. Something in your voice maybe. Or hearing you talk about the glasses of justice, instead of saying one more time that I should come back. It's more tender somehow, and I sniffle away from the phone, wishing you were here to hold me.

"I miss you too Livvy."

Olivia

I don't try to tell you that you could come back. I've heard something change in your voice tonight. The last few weeks you've seemed happier than ever, and I've known that you're getting attached. But all of a sudden you sound so sad and I can't figure out why. I listen to you sniffling away from the receiver, and your quiet,

"I miss you too, Livvy."

We don't have much more to say, just a few more I love you's and then my line is quiet. I hang up the phone, and get up to re-examine my closet, trying to figure out what I've missed. I'm glad now that I've spent the last three weeks planning this trip. I wonder for a moment if I should call you back, tell you I'm coming… but the thought of this surprise is too delicious to pass up. Besides, you'll know soon enough.

I grab the leather jacket I bought for you, and fold it carefully into my suitcase. It's the last thing I have to pack, aside from the rings, and I zip my new suitcase carefully closed around it. It took me forever to find a jacket to match the one we finally threw away when you were here in February. You wore it to the closing of the Connors trial, and then fainted in it. I was starting to think I wouldn't find another like it when I saw it in the store window on my way home from a scene last week.

Elliot, Fin and Munch are going to make me pay for their vaca time donation. There's been much ribbing in the last few weeks, and even Cragen seems to have enjoyed the idea of me running after my girlfriend. But despite all of the teasing, when Elliot dropped me off after work tonight he took a moment to wish me luck, and asked me to tell you that he missed having you around. He and Kathy have reached a tentative bridge of communication. She's letting him have the kids a little more often, and she's stopped hanging up on him when he calls. I still think it's over, but who knows. He offered to drive me to the airport this afternoon, but he has the kids this weekend and I'm not willing to cut into his time with them when I can just as easily take a cab.

I'm finally all packed, and I tuck one ringbox into my pocket, and the other in my carryon in an inside zippered pouch. I'm nervous about losing them, and I want one in my pocket so I can use it to keep my nerves away. I call for a cab, and lug my bags downstairs, trying to remember what in the world I packed that required two large checked bags and two carry-ons. How did you always travel with more than one bag? I don't think I've ever used more than one bag at a time. I juggle my luggage into the trunk of the cab and watch the city fly by as we approach the airport, my nerves making a tight knot in my stomach.

I stroke the black velvet box in my pocket and hope I'm doing the right thing. I've got a stop in Dallas and one in L.A. before I get into to Portland International. I could have flown direct but after my splurge on the rings, I decided to fly cheap. Which means coach, and stop-overs. By the time I get to your place it will probably be after nine, and that's if my flights all leave on time. I check in my bags and make my way to the gate, watching carefully as my carryon and jacket, complete with ring box in pocket, travel through the security x-ray. When I collect my things on the other side, I step aside and pull out the ringbox, flipping open the top to look at it again. I run a finger over the cool metal and take a deep breath. Two hours later I'm bumping through the first leg of my trip, hoping I've made the right decision.

Alex

I slam the door behind me and throw my briefcase against the living room wall, not bothering to turn on the lights. I am beyond frustrated with the Multnomah SVU. The Captain is an old-fashioned man who doesn't entirely approve of a woman being named ADA. The team is all men, and between them they have the sensitivity of a lima bean. I'm surprised rapes even get reported in this county. I change into a pair of sweats and pitch my shoes into the closet, grateful to be done with the day. My feet are killing me after spending almost three hours pacing in the station house, not once having been offered a chair. I hate that I just wasted an entire Saturday talking to some of the most bull-headed detectives I've ever met… and that includes you!

I open a bottle of water and start a fire in the fireplace, hoping the heat will lull me into a state of relaxation. I pick up the phone to call you and worry absently when I get a canned greeting at both your apartment and cell phone. Remembering the last time I got overly worried though, I leave a message on both, then settle into the couch to watch the flames licking their way up to the chimney, listening to the gentle cackling, wishing you were here with me in your arms.

Olivia

When the flight lands in Portland I check my messages, not surprised to see two calls from you. Over the sound of the plane's taxi towards the gate I hear first an angry message, and then a tired one. Clearly your meeting with the SVU didn't go well, and by the time you've left the second message, it's taken a toll on you. What is it these last few days that's made you sound so sad… so tired? I know I've been bugging you about coming back, and I'd like to think you're just missing me, but something tells me there's more to it than that.

I consider returning your call, but decide to stick to my original plan. I make my way to the car rental counter and pick up the clunker of a sedan I reserved on special two weeks ago. It looks ridiculously similar to my work car, but it was the only thing I was willing to pay for. I give the clerk your address and get a fancy custom map that's supposed to help me find my way from Portland International to a tiny row of log-style homes on the edge of Salem. I crawl into the car with my bags and spend some time studying the map. Once I get out of Portland, it should be fairly simple. I start the car and head out of the airport, feeling closer to you every minute. I tuck one hand in my pocket to feel the comforting weight of the ring box.